JEFFERSON CITY - Deep inside the Jefferson City Correctional Center, in the protective custody unit of the state maximum security prison, Michael Wayne Ford Sr. prays for his release.

Parker Eshelman photo

Michael W. Ford Sr. is a prisoner in the Jefferson City Correctional Center, although a governor has commuted his sentence. Former Gov. Joe Teasdale has labeled Fordís case ďa very unfortunate miscarriage of justice.Ē

While thousands of other inmates yearn for freedom, too, Fordís case is especially unique. He remains behind bars despite the fact that a judge recently issued a ruling in his favor, despite the fact that a governor commuted his sentence nearly four years ago and despite the fact that another man convicted in the same murder case was set free 15 years ago.

In the 1990s, a state prison official suggested the "system" had treated Ford unfairly and sought a pardon for him. Still, Ford remains incarcerated. His case file reads like a sad lyric from a Merle Haggard ballad, laced with injustice and irony.

"Heís been gone 31 years," said Sammie Ford, the inmateís 76-year-old mother. "Heís been workiní and workiní and workiní tryiní to help himself out of there."

Ford is not alone. In addition to his family, others have tried to secure his release: two former governors, several state lawmakers, former inmates whose sentences were commuted and even prison officials from other states. All have written letters of support for Ford.

In 1994, when Paul Delo was superintendent of the Potosi Correctional Center, he wrote Dora Schriro, who was then director of the Department of Corrections, suggesting that then-Gov. John Ashcroft be approached for a pardon or commutation of Fordís sentence.

"As you know, I have been in the system for a long time, and we both know that despite our best intentions and actions, sometimes an individual may be treated less than fairly by the system," Deloís letter to Schriro said. "I believe I can convince you that Mr. Ford is worthy of our assistance and the governorís consideration."

A decade passed before anything happened.

Ford was among a group of inmates who received clemency from Gov. Bob Holden shortly before he left office in January 2005. Included were five convicted murderers, whose sentences were commuted from life without parole to 50 years to life. The decision meant that the five could seek a parole from the state Board of Probation and Parole.

Since Holdenís decision, four of the five have gained their freedom, although some have had to go all the way to the Missouri Supreme Court to force the issue. The board has turned down Fordís parole requests twice since Holdenís action. Most recently, the board concluded Ford should not be released because of the seriousness of his original offense and because of three minor conduct violations within the institution.

Late last month, Cole County Circuit Judge Richard Callahan ruled the board could no longer deny Ford a parole based on the circumstances of his crime. Callahan, a former prosecutor, is a strong believer in the criminal courts and the trial-by-jury system. But he acknowledges that in Fordís case, the system broke down.

"His case has always represented in my mind a weakness in our system which stems from a lack of consistency," Callahan said in an interview. "Itís impossible to get consistency systemwide. At least in individual cases, we ought to achieve better consistency than we did in this case. The fact that one defendant exercised his right to a jury trial doesnít justify what happened in this case."

MURDER ACCESSORY

To understand Fordís current predicament, the clock has to be turned back 31 years to July 30, 1977. Then 20 years old, Ford joined an acquaintance, Melvin Huffman, in a day of drinking beer and shooting pool at several St. Louis bars: the White Swan, Red Haven and Possums.

After heavy drinking, they picked up a hitchhiker, Larry Sansoucie, near the Anheuser-Busch brewery in south St. Louis. The trio met up with Huffmanís former girlfriend, something was said, and a series of arguments and fights broke out. They ended near a Mississippi River bluff, where Sansoucie was stabbed to death. Ford has always denied stabbing Sansoucie. According to documents filed in Fordís behalf, Huffman admitted he stabbed Sansoucie several times.

Later, Ford and Huffman drove to a rural area near Arnold and dumped Sansoucieís body into an old well. During a police investigation the next day, Ford led police to the body.

During Fordís trial, the judge suggested that he plead guilty to second-degree murder and accept a sentence of 30 years in prison. Ford rejected the plea bargain because he didnít believe he was guilty because he didnít stab the victim. Fordís new lawyer, James Erwin, said Fordís trial lawyer had failed to explain to him that under the law, Ford was just as liable for the murder as Huffman. Erwin said Fordís trial lawyer was later disbarred.

"Mr. Ford was convicted of capital murder on the basis of jury instructions that allowed the jury to find him guilty of the crime whether he was the one who actually stabbed the victim or not," Erwin said. "His conviction of capital murder carried with it a mandatory sentence of life without possibility of parole for 50 years, even though his actual culpability was as an accessory to the crime."

Huffman had a separate trial and a different lawyer. He was convicted of second-degree murder and was sentenced to 40 years. Huffman was paroled in 1993 after serving 15 years of his sentence.

Many years later, Geneva Smith, a witness to the crime, signed a sworn statement in Fordís behalf.

"What I am unable to understand is why Michael Ford (who had nothing to do with the stabbing) received a sentence of 50 years to life, and the individual Melvin Huffman (the individual who did the stabbing) received only a sentence of 40 years," Smith said.

In a clemency request sent to Holden in 2003, former Gov. Joe Teasdale, representing Ford, wrote of the "many injustices" in Fordís case.

"I am not suggesting that Mr. Ford is not guilty of his crime," Teasdale wrote. "I do believe that Mr. Ford is guilty of second-degree murder on the theory of accessory liability, but I do not believe that Mr. Ford should have received a sentence of 50 years without parole."

ENDANGERED INFORMER

Erwin said that in his younger days, Ford was "frankly kind of a punk." In an interview, Ford said that as a juvenile, he skipped school and "stole stuff" and was incarcerated as a youngster at the Boonville Training Center.

After the conviction in the stabbing, when Ford was first imprisoned in the Missouri State Penitentiary in the early 1980s, there was an altercation between him and a prison guard. The incident brought Ford an additional conviction of "offering violence to a corrections employee" and a three-year sentence to go with it.

"I was a goof-up," Ford said last week. He said he is not a troublemaker now but that he had been when he first came to prison. Ford said his life turned around when he testified in the wake of an escape attempt at the Missouri State Penitentiary.

Among the ironies of Fordís 31 years of incarceration is the fact that he has often put his life on the line to help authorities solve crimes that have taken place behind prison walls. His trial testimony against other inmates and prison guards in Missouri and three other states has placed him in danger from those who might seek retribution.

Thatís why heís now serving time in protective custody.

In 1981, two inmates armed with revolvers and ammunition took three guards hostage in an escape attempt from MSP, the old maximum security prison in Jefferson City. In the investigation that followed, authorities learned how guards had smuggled guns, a cutting torch and narcotics into the prison.

"Because the investigation and resulting prosecution involved prison guards who were smuggling contraband to the inmates, there was extreme inmate pressure to support the defendant-guards in any way possible and to discourage inmate cooperation in the investigation," wrote Callahan, who was then an assistant Cole County prosecuting attorney. "To say that an inmate cooperating with authorities risked physical harm would be an understatement."

Still, Ford came forward and provided information that helped authorities prosecute two prison guards. He testified in the trial of one of them. Guards and inmates were sent to prison with Fordís help.

"Michael Fordís cooperation with the prison authorities was a substantial contribution to the overall peace and security both for the guards and inmates at the Missouri State Penitentiary," Callahan wrote in a letter that was placed in Fordís file in 1984.

For his own safety, Ford was transferred to a prison in New Mexico, where he was instrumental in an investigation of a prison guard who had been suspected of distributing drugs in the prison. "Inmate Fordís assistance was initiated by him without coercion, threat or promise of reward," wrote J.V. Gutierrez, warden of the Central New Mexico Correctional Facility in Los Lunas.

Later, after Ford was transferred again, he provided information on a number of felonies that took place behind prison walls in Minnesota. He helped authorities stop the flow of drugs through the visiting room into a prison there. He also testified before a state grand jury and at the trial of James Leroy Scott, an inmate who was accused of murdering a fellow prisoner who was an informant. Scott was convicted of first-degree murder and sentenced to consecutive life terms.

William Klumpp, an assistant attorney general in Minnesota, wrote Holden in 2004 to say that Ford "took considerable risks upon himself" by helping authorities.

"He did so under circumstances which would cause even the most well-meaning citizen to seriously consider not becoming involved out of fear for oneís own safety," Klumpp wrote.

While imprisoned in Limon, Colo., Ford provided information that helped prosecute two inmates who were charged with the execution-type slaying of another inmate. Jose Hernandez, an investigator in Colorado, wrote the Missouri governorís office to say he would support a pardon for Ford.

"I believe Michael will be a law-abiding citizen as his record reflects," Hernandez wrote.

FAMILY MAN

Another aspect that makes Fordís prison experience unique is the fact that he managed to father a child while in custody.

Prison inmates can, and do, get married. Few consummate their marriages while in custody. Ford has been married twice. While an inmate in Missouri, he married a woman and later got divorced. While incarcerated in Minnesota, he met a woman through another inmate. They corresponded, and she began visiting him.

While giving testimony against another inmate, Ford was being held in a county jail in Minnesota. He was allowed to meet with his female friend in a room in the county jail.

"I was waiting for the trial, and my visits were in the attorney room," Ford said in an interview. "Thatís how it happened. They let me have a visit, and one thing led to another."

Fordís son will be 17 years old in December. Michael Ford Sr. and the woman, Carmen Ford, were married in 1993. Carmen Ford and Michael Ford Jr. have visited Ford in Missouri institutions. In addition, Ford has a daughter from a relationship that took place before the crime that put him in prison.

Ford believed he had finally caught a break on Nov. 24, 2004, when Holden commuted his sentence to life, thus making him eligible for parole immediately. The board held a parole hearing for Ford in 2005 and denied his release on the grounds that it would "depreciate the seriousness" of his offense.

The board had used this language in other commutation cases approved by Holden. For example, Shirley Lute was denied parole on the same grounds in 2005. Lute had been imprisoned since 1981 after being convicted of aiding her son in the murder of her husband. Groups had sought Luteís release on the grounds that she was a battered spouse.

Lute was finally freed after the Supreme Court reviewed her case and determined that Holdenís commutation order meant that he had already considered the circumstances of the crime, thus removing the boardís review of that factor. Jane Aiken, a Washington University law school professor who represented Lute, wrote the parole board saying the Lute decision applied to the facts of Fordís case.

"Given that there are no other grounds stated, Mr. Ford should have been released at that time," Aiken said in a letter to the board on June 18, 2007.

But a few days later, the board again denied Ford a parole based on the circumstances of the crime. And this time, the board came up with additional findings that "there does not appear to be a reasonable probability at this time that you (Ford) would live and remain at liberty without again violating the law."

The board based this new finding on three alleged conduct violations that were placed in Fordís file in December 2006. One said he had made an insulting remark to a female guard. Another said he had raised his voice in speaking to a prison guard and thus created a disturbance. Ford denied the violations and was given a third conduct violation because he questioned the validity of the first two "write-ups."

Michael Spillane, an assistant attorney general, noted in a filing in Callahanís court that the board has the discretion to decide when to release an inmate. He noted that the board can set an inmate free only if "in its opinion, there is a reasonable probability that an offender of a correctional institution may be released without detriment to the community or himself."

"In Fordís case, the boardís opinion of Fordís conduct in prison and readiness to re-enter society make it illegal for the board to parole Ford at this time," Spillane said.

PLANS FOR THE FUTURE

As it stands now, Fordís next parole hearing is scheduled for June. On Aug. 13, state Rep. Kevin Threlkeld, R-Washington, wrote the board asking it to release Ford in the near future.

"It does not appear to me that any public safety interest is served by spending scarce resources to keep him in prison," Threlkeld wrote.

For most of the past year, Ford was kept in administrative segregation at Jefferson City Correctional Center. "Ad Seg" is reserved for problem inmates. Movement is severely restricted. Prisoners spend virtually all their time in their cells.

Ford was there because he had enemies in the prisonís general population as well as in the protective custody unit. After a potential enemy was removed, Ford was transferred to the protective custody unit in late August.

"Iím a lot better off than I was before, but I should have went home," said Ford last week in an interview. Discussing the murder case that put him behind bars, Ford said, "Of course, I wish it had never happened. Iím sorry it ever did. I wish I did more than I did. I tried to break up the fight."

Ford, 51, said that if he were paroled, he would live with his parents near Catawissa. He said relatives in the construction business would give him a job. He planned to move into a mobile home on his parentsí property. He said he would abide by the law.

"Iím not a threat to society in no way, fashion or form," Ford said. "Iím praying that they will come back and give me a hearing and give me a release date. Iím the last one of the whole five who hasnít went home."